


A life Deserved

by ItStartedWithPotter



Category: Fanfiction of Original Work - Fandom, My master Gabriel, Original Work, The Best Gift ever fanfic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Gen, Mentions of non-sexual slavery, Mentions of sexual slavery, One Shot, Post-slavery fic, Stand alone ex-master/ slave fic, Thankyou to PaxterHobber for letting me write this!, fanfic of original work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28898805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItStartedWithPotter/pseuds/ItStartedWithPotter
Summary: Erik hasn't been a slave for twenty years. But on the back of a job interview he visits the city where he grew up and runs into someone from his previous life he hadn't expected to see. Will Erik truly ever be free or will he remain enslaved to Gabriel Powell, his old master?This one-shot, stand alone piece is a post-canon work of fiction based off the characters from PaxterHobber's original fic: 'The best gift ever.' Doesn't need to be read prior to reading this but will make more sense if you have!
Relationships: Erik/ Unknown husband, Past Gabriel Powell/ Erik
Comments: 16
Kudos: 49





	A life Deserved

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaxterHobber](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxterHobber/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Best Gift Ever](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24899446) by [PaxterHobber](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaxterHobber/pseuds/PaxterHobber). 



It had been a long time since Erik ventured to the capital city. Probably the better part of the decade. It’s not like he disliked the city or anything. No, in fact, he rather enjoyed the lights, the noise, the vibrant nature of a city creaking under the pressure of the boisterous youth, the weary commuters and the excited tourists. Erik took a moment to properly look at what was around him.  
A small boy eating an ice lolly.  
A beautiful young woman pointing to something on her phone.  
A self-assured businessman talking loudly to his colleague.   
But there was more. The elderly woman respectfully watching the young boy enjoy his lolly? She could’ve easily been mistaken for being the child’s grandmother if it wasn’t for the uniform she was wearing indicating her status as a slave.   
The woman who was pointing at her phone was also stroking the arm of a girl kneeling by her side. A pet or a house slave.   
And rather than the colleague to whom the businessman was speaking to, it was obviously a work slave. And he was giving him orders. 

No, Erik didn’t often venture into the city. As pretty and inviting as it was, to Erik, it reminded him of a past he spent most of his life trying to forget. 

Gritting his teeth, he made his way across the road. Even now, even after twenty years of being freed the glimpses of slaves going about their daily jobs reminded him of his servitude. Out in the country where he had made a home for himself, people tended to be freed men and women. And though he had the legal right to purchase one, having a slave around the house made him feel uneasy. To be fair, he was dealt a good deal. A decent master, a privileged life, a trust fund that meant he barely had to work for money and most importantly - when he fell in love with someone, his master had freed him. Erik hadn’t questioned it and had taken the gift and run with it. His life in the country with his art and his husband was more than he had hoped for. Certainly, if asked a seventeen-year-old Erik of this is how he expected his life to turn out, he would have bitterly laughed and said that ‘slaves didn’t get that lucky.’ But he had. And there wasn’t a day then went by that he didn’t thank the stars that he no longer lived here or was in servitude. 

But last week he had received an email from one of the many art studios he had applied to work with. An upcoming contemporary art exhibition for which they needed artists and art historians to assist with the promotion and re-creating parts of the exhibit. They had asked for him to come for an interview.   
“We are looking for talented artists who can deliver and feel the mood of the exhibit’   
Erik wasn’t sure what that meant exactly but it was a job interview with a well-known studio and could help him in his career. Besides, a trip to the city might be worth it, he had thought, if he could come back with some inspiration for his own art pieces. 

His husband had been very encouraging. Though he had flat out refused to come with him, he did encourage him to make the phone call to his ex-master. Not that Erik needed approval but Gabriel Powell was exactly the type of person you wanted on your side and besides if he was seeking a little reassurance - what was wrong with that? 

Gabriel had sounded friendly on the phone. And if he could tell Erik was anxious and stuttering (which he definitely could), he said nothing. Instead he sent a car for Erik from his home so that he wouldn’t have to sit on a train for the better half of a day. Erik was grateful and so readily agreed when Gabriel told him to come visit him after. If he had omitted to mention anything about the job interview, it was only because telling Gabriel that he was coming to meet Tracey in her retirement home seemed easier than saying the truth. 

If truth be told, seeing the man who had enslaved him was probably part of the reason why Erik currently felt like he might vomit his breakfast. Meeting Gabriel was far scarier than any interview could be. 

*************************************************

The interview was being held in a hotel lobby. Lucky for him, Erik’s wardrobe had 3-piece tailored suits. Because, of course, Gabriel indulged him. Even though he didn’t have to. Even though Erik had repeatedly told him he didn’t need these fancy clothes that those who roamed in Gabriel’s circle wore. Gabriel had raised an eyebrow at him the last time they had this conversation.  
“Stop being so stubborn, for once,” Gabriel had said lightly.  
But Erik took it to heart. How could he have not? He spent most his youth responding to orders and the whims of the man who was now the reason Erik fit into the 7-star hotel lobby. His strides made the click-clack noise of studded boots and he was immediately greeted by a staff member (or just a really well-bred slave) who offered him a glass of champagne as if they were at a party rather than a job interview.  
He was led to a waiting area and asked to sit until called into one of the meeting rooms. So sit, Erik did. And whilst he did, he looked around at the hotel. He had been in such places plenty of times growing up. Either with his master or sometimes when master wanted him to go to parties and he would run away with his fellow slaves to enjoy the hallways of the hotel. Those moments, Erik remembered wistfully, were quite the joyous ones. But never had he had the chance to just sit and observe. Not be bothered. Not be ordered. But just look at the other guests. Strain his ear to hear their conversations. Erik would never feel like one of them. He would never truly fit in. but for the first time in a very long time, he did feel he had rightfully earned his place. And he was going nowhere.  
He was shaken out of his thoughts with the arrival of a young, blonde woman who took him to the meeting room. She almost pushed him inside.  
“Good luck,” she whispered pleasantly. In another lifetime, she wouldn’t have even looked at him twice. But that was then and this was now. He had a job interview to do. 

***********************************************

As soon as Erik stepped into the room, it was as if the last twenty years hadn’t even happened. He wasn’t in a hotel meeting room. He wasn’t holding a glass of very expensive champagne. He wasn’t a freed man. He was a slave. In his Master’s house. Staring at the woman who he detested. Waiting to get yelled at or forced into yet another impossible position. And if he had thought meeting his ex-master was going to be difficult. Seeing his ex-master’s sister was even worse.  
She finally looked up from her computer. And frowned. Neither of them spoke for the longest of while.   
“Sorry, “she said in slight confusion  
“Do I know you?”   
Erik’s mouth had gone dry.   
“No Miss-”he clamped his mouth shut sharply. What was wrong with him! He was just about to call her mistress!   
“Ms. Powell but you can call me Hanna’ she supplied.   
Erik nodded mutely. When she indicated for him to come forward and take the seat opposite, every base instinct was telling him to run. This was a trap. A nightmare. He would be woken up and punished. He blinked rapidly to ebb the sudden onslaught of tears.  
“Huh,” Hanna mused. “I could’ve sworn I knew you…” she trailed off and instead brought out a large brown envelope and opened it to reveal some of Erik’s concept designs he had sent in advance.  
“This is rather novel,” she began. Erik nodded.  
“Can you tell me why you chose this medium?”  
“I enjoy oil on canvas. It gives me the fre-freedom to express the concept in a more natural way.”  
“It’s a little un-orthodox,” she said, looking at him intently.  
“I’m sorry?”  
“Contemporary piece. But oil on canvas. Quite a risk you took there,” And oh. That was a challenge if he ever heard one. Erik straightened up. He got this. This was something he knew a great deal about. And so he began.  
Erik answered. Hanna listened. Erik stopped. Hanna questioned.  
“And how did the mood you were creating influence your choice of colours?”  
“How long had you been working on this concept?”  
“Where do you see the political art movement going to next?”  
He and Hanna developed a back and forth. An intellectual conversation. Where he was being given respect and a chance to express his views. Never in a million years he thought he would be having this conversation. And not with Hanna Powell. But here he was.  
Their interview turned more into a discussion and from there into a conversation about their favourite artists and era. Hanna smiled at him. Erik was suddenly reminded of Gabriel. At how similar their jaw lines were.  
“I think,” she was saying whilst stifling a yawn. “It’s safe to say – you have the job. But I do need to discuss the logistics and all that with the other partners,”  
“I’m so grateful,” Erik said sincerely. Because he was.  
She nodded at him in return and gestured towards the door whilst standing up. “You’re welcome to wait here or we can call you to discuss further.”  
He nodded and made his way to the door.  
“Oh before you leave…for the records. Where did you learn art? Which school I mean.”  
Erik froze and he took a few breaths before replying. “I didn’t Ms. Powell. I’m a freed man. All of my skills are self-taught. My master’s house had an art studio which I was sometimes allowed to use”  
Erik didn’t need to turn around to see realisation hit Hanna. But when Hanna didn’t say anything for several moments, dejectedly, knowing he wouldn’t get the job now, he pushed the door open.  
“Erik?” Hanna said uncertainly. In a very un-Hanna voice. It was this uncertainty that made him look round at her sharply.  
She looked fierce. Her dark hair falling in a curtain to her shoulders. Standing there in her 4 inch heels. She was a powerful woman. And Erik? Well Erik was just the slave her brother used to fuck.  
“I’m glad to see you. You’ll be…a good fit for the studio. I’ll call you shortly.” With that she turned around resolutely and went to stand by the window.  
Erik was stunned.  
“Thank you Hanna,” he whispered and then his bravery fizzled out. He all but ran out of the hotel and only when he had hailed a taxi and was safely on his way to meet Dennis and Tracey for lunch did he start to breathe. 

***********************************************

I met your sister today. Erik said softly.   
Gabriel turned around slowly.   
“Really? How?”  
Erik shrugged but Gabriel turned fully to face him and stared him down. Even after all these years Erik couldn’t help but answer. The echoes of past beatings and punishment made Erik reply in an instant.   
“I interviewed for an art studio and well she was on the panel”  
Gabriel said nothing.   
“You lied to me,” Gabriel said softly.   
“I’m sorry, master” Erik muttered and cringed almost immediately. God he hadn’t slipped up like this in years. Gabriel’s face softened and he must’ve thought to do something because he made to move, hesitated and instead looked away before speaking.   
“You don’t have to work, Erik”  
“I want to,” Erik replied   
“You don’t need the money,”   
“It’s not about that sir,” Erik replied quietly.   
Gabriel studied him and Erik hid his face. Gabriel knew that if he told Erik to not take the job he wouldn’t. Gabriel knew he shouldn’t want Erik to be entirely dependent on him but he did. He also knew that it would break Erik. And Gabriel inspite of everything, loved the man in front of him.   
“I meant,” Gabriel clarified, “your work is amazing Erik, you can make millions on your own.   
And there it was- the shy beautiful and genuine smile that Erik hadn’t been able to shake off as he went from a boy to becoming a man.   
“Hanna is better and has the resources-“ he blushed when Gabriel raised his eyebrows in surprise for a second time and Erik blushed. “I mean Ms. Powell…”  
“You’ve earned the right to call her by her given name,” Gabriel said firmly. “I was merely surprised that you are willing to work with her.”  
Erik leant his back against the black arm seat. The seat he had serviced his master on multiple times. The very master who was still looking at him now.  
“She’s changed.” He said eventually.  
A beat of silence as Erik closed his eyes and Gabriel took a sip of his coffee.  
“She has,” he agreed.  
“And I have changed,” Erik added. Almost as an afterthought.  
“You have,” Gabriel confirmed.  
They sat in comfortable silence for a little longer. Erik’s eyes remained closed. What was the point in pretending? Gabriel had seen him at his worst and his best. He didn’t really have anything to hide from the man. Gabriel observed him silently. He looked suddenly young. He wasn’t, of course. The years of hard work were etched on Erik’s face. But this, here and now, reminded Gabriel of all the times Erik would silently ask for Gabriel’s approval. The boy wouldn’t admit it but he needed it. Almost as much as Gabriel needed to provide it. Did that make him vulnerable or Erik? He wasn’t so sure. He didn’t like to think on it either. 

“I’ve got to get back to work Gabriel said a short while later.   
Erik nodded and gone was the vulnerability. Gone was the slave Gabriel once owned. Erik made to get up, picked up his briefcase and made his way to the door where he hesitated for a moment.   
It was good to see you again, sir. Gabriel followed him to the front lawn.  
Gabriel nodded and stood still refusing to give into the instinct of enveloping Erik into his arms and refusing to let the boy leave. But it was Erik who broke the rule first.   
Out of nowhere, Erik’s arms found themselves around Gabriel’s who sagged in relief. 

“Come visit us, sometime.” He said quietly.   
“I will.” He promised. 

Erik left then. And Gabriel watched the person who he had fallen in love with go back to his life. The life he deserved. Gabriel was just glad that Erik let him be a part of that life. 

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to know your thoughts. Also who do you think might be Erik's husband?


End file.
